A Son's Tale

But he was her college professor.

“I love hearing about you and your dad,” she said, opening up to him in spite of herself. “Frank is so completely different from my father.”

“My dad has always had a way with kids,” Cal told her. “He relates to them, understands them.”

“He genuinely likes them.”

“He should have had a houseful of them.” His voice took on a hint of bitterness that wasn’t usual for him.

“Why didn’t he ever remarry after your mother died?”

Cal shrugged. Took a sip of wine and stared into his glass. “It’s not something we ever talk about, but I suspect that he never found a woman who could fill the void she left.”

Morgan wasn’t sure he was being completely honest with her. A first with him.

She sipped. And put his reticence down to too much intimate conversation for one night. Cal had a right to preserve his father’s privacy.

“I think we need to talk,” he said, and when she glanced up, he was studying her intently.

Gulping, Morgan felt like a schoolkid all of a sudden. One who’d been called to the principal’s office.

“Okay.” The way he was looking at her, all personal and close, she knew that they were about to address the conversation they’d had in the living room. Bracing herself, she waited for him to say what was on his mind.

Backtracking would be fine. A bit of a letdown, but probably for the best.

“I’m finding myself drawn to you.”

She waited to find out where he was going.

“I don’t think I’m alone here.”

Morgan wanted a sip of her wine in the worst way. And was afraid to move.

“Am I?” It was the hint of insecurity that got to her. Caleb Whittier was the most se

lf-possessed man she’d ever met.

“N—” She coughed. Took a sip of wine, looked him in the eye, and tried again. “No.”

He drank. Nodded. His gaze was focused exclusively on her. And intense. “You want to help me out here?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

“So take it where you want to go with it.”

The conversation? Or the friendship?

“You’re my professor. I’m your student.”

“Not here, I’m not. And you’re not. We’re in your home, Morgan. Two consenting adults. Equals. Tell me what you want from me.”

Liquid heat spread through her skin and up to her face. She couldn’t believe she was blushing. “I can’t do that.” She absolutely could not tell the man he was the sole star of every single one of her fantasies. Let’s see, how would that go? Well, last night, in my dreams… Or how about, Last week, in class, when you were…I was…

“Why not? Because of class? It’s over in a couple of weeks.”

She was in way over her head. “By your own admission, you’ve had a lot of…female companions… .”

“Lovers, you mean.”